Arrows & Gold
by Shardas
Summary: Ela Verlac and her siblings have been raised as Mundanes and Shadowhunters. But some don't know, and it all gets turned upside down when a man ends up unconscious on their front step...covered in blood. Now the Verlacs are at war with themselves, and it all comes down to blood and choices. Will they join the Nephilim or the choose Mundane world? Not a JaceXOC relationship.
1. The Doorbell

SSSSssssssss! The stele hissed with a crackling popping sound over my skin; I winced at it's common yet sudden stinging kiss. Once the pain faded a little, I moved the tip of the blue stone against the edge of my wrist, flicking it in a pattern of some swirls and a few flashing, swishing lines. A strength rune if anything, even if it was a bit...mis-shapen. "By the Angel..." I cursed under my breath, not happy with my effort, even when I felt the pressure in my upper arms and legs, indicating the rune had worked. The black ink sunk into my skin, becoming a part of me, where it would stay from now on, forever, turning into a slim, faint white scar later when the effects of it wore off.

I sighed, and sat the stele down on my small, white desk. The shining blue stone flickered for another singular moment before dying out, making the stone look more black than shining sky blue it was only a moment before. I stared at the runes that were carved into the sides of my stele, metallic and gray, before a quick thump on my door made me turn my head in surprise. "Who is it?" I called towards the door. "Deborah, your loving twin sister and parabatai." A singing voice sung through the wood, before opening to a short blonde girl, with sea blue eyes and a dazzling smile. "Elaine!" The almost pure shock in the girls voice made my eyes grow wide with the sudden noise, making me jump a bit into the air at the loudness.

"You were carving runes..." Deborah started. "And you didn't invite me!?"

A smile played over my face, making my cheeks, which were imprinted by dimples, stand out tremendously. I, Elaine, or as my family called me Ela, have a bright smile, sparkling yellow-green eyes, and a small button nose. Black glasses framed my face, making my dark brunette braids curl around my face in various twists and turns, hanging down over my shoulders.

My twin, however, was another story. Deborah did have her bright smile, sparkling eyes, and love of shadowhunting, but that was about the only thing we have in common...in appearances anyway. Physically, we are both 15 years old, but otherwise...nothing much. Deborah had medium length blonde hair that was always as soft as silk, bright ocean blue eyes, and clear braces that made her smile flash as any light reflected off the shiny metal. She was just a few inches shorter than me, and more...sparkly if you could say that, wearing glitter and shiny metals while rocking the usual shadow hunter fighting materials. All of her black jeans were bedazzled in various colors of sequins, mainly pink and gold, leather jackets were sparkling with loose glitter from her tricked out headbands, and she always wore belts, thick and thin, with sparkles of various colors. She was much more forwardly dressed to say the least.

I, however, always wore some type of shadowhunting gear. It's just how I liked to be, as I always felt at home in the Institute, with a weapon, and being dressed like the other Nephilim kept me calm I suppose. I always wore black leather all the time, everywhere we went. I usually had black leather fighting jeans and combat boots for the Mundane school for "just in case" moments. Extra seraph blades were hidden below my socks inside my shoes; mini stele in my belt loop, and a small electrum whip rolled up inside my locker. I was always ready for anything.

Deborah's insistent snapping of her nail-polished fingers shook me back into reality. "What?" I asked hazily. My blonde sister sighed. "I said why did you carve a strength rune? Isn't today when we do balance training? We did strength yesterday, stupid." Deborah said laughing. I looked down at my wrist, cursing my short attention span to not notice my idiotic action. Of course it's crazy I drew a strength rune, we have balance and equilibrium training today. "Oh." Was all I said.

A silence filled over us as we both looked to my wrist; blue veins tracing up my pale arm. Freckles dotted my arm, as well as black ink and scars. Looking down my arm, I caught sight of my Verlac ring. The thick gray band enveloping my right hand pinkie finger, a solid "V" stood out against the metal. Two designs of snakes, their tongues slipping out their mouths, wrapped around the ring. It reminded me of my life, the two snakes chasing each other around and around, like we do chasing demons in the world, when very well the demons we also chase are ones like us. The same form, yet different. "You know you'll have to wear long sleeves now right?" Deborah said finally, half sighing. I snapped out of my thoughts, nodding, my brown locks shaking. Our mother, Diana Verlac, didn't know about us being...special.

Diana knew we both trained, and she knew we had our own secrets, but she never saw the steles, the blades, nor the demons we killed. Diana never saw the runes that we inked ourselves with daily, only the white scars that weren't visible without really good lighting. She never even knew our father, Christopher Verlac, was a Shadowhunter, training all of her daughters, and will soon be training her only son, behind her back on the weekends, and nights, and grabbing various weapons from his work, the New York Institute, for us all to practice on in secret when Diana wasn't home.

Diana didn't know much at all, only that we were "exercise savvy" and all four girls had "girl talks" at the library, when we were really at a local club called Deamon. If she knew we were really at a night club killing some monster that had crawled out of the depths of hell, she'd have a full blown fit. She'd be madder than mad. Madder than ever, no one could let her find out. Ever. It wasn't an option.

Even the littlest sibling, a young boy of 10 named Mason, knew never to speak of Nephilim business in 20,000 square feet of our mother. It was like a silent restraining order, one side being information about our secret life, and the other being Diana herself. Sure sometimes he'd say Hana, or even I, had a mark. We'd all freeze, and then Masons' eyes would grow wide. We'd all look to Diana, who would fume towards whoever Mason had confronted, and pull up her sleeve to find the not fully gone rune, and she'd be so close to figuring it all out, all the secrets and lies, but she'd only yell at one of her daughters, telling her not to draw weird stuff on herself anymore, and then leave the room to calm down, taking all the Sharpies and permanent markers with her.

Our father usually came in at that point, looking to the daughter who had taken the heat with apologetic smiles, and she'd try to smile back but she'd turn away. We'd all turn away. This life, half mundane, half Shadowhunter. It wasn't fair to any of us. This life, it was terrible and wonderful at the same time. It was what it was certainly. A life of secrets and killing, but one thing was certain for sure, it probably was killing us ourselves.

"Hello, I'm home!" A voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to my parabatai's blue eyes, trying to smile. "You were thinking about Mom weren't you Ela?" She asked quietly, understanding myself without any words being said. I nodded, and sighed deeply, so deeply my chest tightened but I accepted the pain. It was like massage, uncomfortable but amazing at the same time. Not saying another word, I walked to the closet I shared with Deborah, pulling on a random, thick, black leather coat, and walked to the bedroom door.

"Come on Debs, we need to go see Dad."

We followed each other down the long, wooden stairs, once being passed by our two other sisters, Hana, and Sarah, and by Mason on his wobbly feet. He was holding a comic book tightly in his hands, his glasses sliding crookedly on his nose. His unruly hair was blown all around his face, and his gray eyes were set down in concentration. I ran my hand through his brown hair as he walked past, though he hardly seemed to notice. He barely paid me a glance as he trod down the stairs, somehow not tripping over his own feet, as he walked straight into the embrace of our father, not breaking eye contact with the book once.

Christopher Verlac stood near the bottom of the stairs, embraced in a crushing hug between Hana, Sarah, and a lighter hug from Mason. Hana was stronger though, resulting in Sarah getting shoved aside, but before a fight broke out, Mason moved away, still reading, walking towards the living room. Sarah took his place. Deborah got down the stairs before me, hugging Hana from behind. I hugged Sarah, my cheek against the soft material of her light blue Winnie-the-Pooh shirt she still had from when she was five. Though it had been 10 years since, surprisingly, it still fit her perfectly, though it strung up a bit and so you could see the band of her underwear, "Apparatus" was printed on the side. I knew what it meant from Latin class. _Armour; Gear._ Named right I suppose, it protects rashes from destroying your bum after training all day. I giggled to myself at my own realization.

We all broke away from the giant hug, Hana, her red hair pulled up into a big bun on the top of her head. Her yellow-green eyes were decorated thickly with eyeliner, and her black and red outfit contrasting with Sarah's blue toddler shirt and jeans. Hana looked like such a teenager, as she is 17 years old. Sarah, on the contrary, looked like a 16 year old child, a little girl in a teenagers body. I wore, as usual, black training jeans and a pajama shirt thrown over a tank top. A lazy look. Deborah, as usual, shined in the light of the doorway with glitter.

Christopher Verlac was a tall man, with curly, dark brown hair and ocean blue eyes like Deborah's. He had muscles, though he was getting up in age, 37 years old, as he trained with us as much as he could. His weapon was a long sword, just like Deborah's. Mason would choose his weapon when he starts to train full time. Hana's was a short sword or a whip on her good days, Sarah had a talent in throwing daggers, and I...an archery bow and arrows.

Five kids in all, you'd think it would be hard to keep a family running smoothly. It is. Especially when 6 out of the 7 in all were Shadowhunters. It's even harder when the one who doesn't know is the one who sends you to school. We are a pack of kids, Shadowhunter kids that are forced to head to mundane school on weekdays. The only child who didn't attend the mundane custom was Hana. Diana had trusted her to sign herself up for high school when the time came, but Hana had ignored her. She went demon hunting that night to distract herself, so instead of bringing home signed school papers, she brought home a lot of loose blood and a lot of scrapes and scars that needed multiple iratzes to heal. Diana hadn't seen anything about it, and she hadn't further asked Hana about school. As long as she wasn't spotted out and about hunting while she was supposed to be at school, she was free to do whatever she pleased. I believe she usually goes to the Institute to train with her parabatai, Lea Starkweather.

Christopher stood back from the hug, setting down his "briefcase" double locked so Diana wouldn't see the secret stash of various new weapons he borrowed from the Institute for his daughters. Without another word, we all followed him into the kitchen, where Diana Verlac herself was making dinner. She was a beautiful woman, tall and slim, with a mane of long blonde hair. Her green eyes were mysterious, and though not very observant, for obvious reasons, they still sparkled with life.

"What are you making?" Hana asked her, running up to the edge of the stove; she was always the picky one, even though she was the oldest. "Soup." Diana said in a even tone of voice, waiting for the complaints. "Ew." Sarah said, making a face, and looked up to me with her big, sad eyes. I almost giggled. "You know we don't like that stuff!" Hana said crossing her arms. Diana sighed that motherly sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Hana Arianna...please. I made dinner and you can eat it or wait until breakfast. Now which is it?" Diana snapped. Hana glared, and grabbed a bowl. She silently ladled soup into her bowl, almost unwillingly, and stomped to the table, without a look to Mason, who had walked in the kitchen with the same book from earlier gripped between his hands. He sat on the counter as Diana made her son a serving of soup, as he seemed too busy to do it on his own.

I waited in the small family line behind Deborah, watching Hana and Mason sit at the table. The difference between the two was stunning; one hardly would believe they were siblings. Hana, her punk-rock look and Mason with his innocent, young boy face, reading one of his countless editions to the small books. Hana typed way on her sensor, glamoured to look like her cell phone for Diana's sake, searching for demons in the New York area for her hunt tonight. Looking at the two, I could almost laugh.

Soon enough, everyone was served, and we all were seated at the table, steaming bowls of hot soup ladled and saltine crackers placed on napkins around our bowls. Various drinks were served as well, and with that, dinner had begun. We don't usually talk around the table, mainly because all of our exciting stories come by Nephilim description, and therefore we are forbidden to speak unless of something of mundane knowledge. Many of our stories are about demons we've killed, or the new demonic textbooks we've grazed, or even the new training techniques we began to use.

Our mundane conversation paled terribly in comparison. Weather? School? What were we even supposed to talk about?

"So how have your classes gone?" Diana asked, taking a big spoonful of hot soup into her mouth. She eyed her kids, Hana, Sarah, Mason, Deborah, and I. Hana ignored the question, obviously hoping her dad would take the hint and cover for her. He didn't agree with the idea of mundane school any more than we kids did. Sarah ended up being the one to cover for Hana, who had been expected to speak first.

"It is fine Mom, my biology teacher absolutely loves me. I also am thinking of joining the volleyball team perhaps next year." Her brown hair swished as she smiled. Diana nodded, glad to get a decent answer. "What about you Mason?" She asked, and finally, the boy looked up from his comics. He looked to everyone, watching them watch him.

"...What?" He asked, taking a quick sip of broth from his dinner. "I wasn't listening..."

Diana sighed, watching her son slip back into the world of his imagination. She took a deep breath, and turned to Deborah. She was already ready with her answer. "I had an amazing day today! I got a 100 on my Algebra test, and I learned a new recipe in Cooking for brownies. I should try to cook it later. Oh! Also I gained a boyfriend today! His name is Matthew Blackthorn, and-" My hand slapped over her mouth, stunning her. My movement shocked everyone, and I winced as I felt my own slap echo on my face. She was my parabatai, her pain was my pain...literally.

"Ela! Why I never...?! Why would you do that to your sister?" Diana had screeched. She was the only one mad now, as everyone else knew what was wrong. So many Shadowhunter families live like we do, sending the kids to both Institutes to train and mundane school to learn mundane customs. Blackthorn is a Shadowhunter last name, and we would all need to tell Matthew the rules before we let him meet Diana anyway. Deborah's relationship would be, or could become, very dangerous with gossip and Diana mixed in.

Dinner after that was awkward and silent. My punishment for slapping my sister was being sent to my room immediately after eating. Deborah, I knew, forgave me after she realized her mistake. Last names could be dangerous, especially around mundanes. We all had to be careful.

Mason, Diana, and Christopher had also gone to bed about an hour after supper. I snuck back down the stairs, and Hana, Sarah, Deborah, and I sat in the living room watching re-runs of "What Not To Wear" and "America's Next Top Model". We ate out of a small bowl of popcorn, M&M's, and diet cherry soda out of the aluminum cans. It almost seemed as if we were...normal...for a while. It was relaxing.

I lay up against Deborah's side, her body leaning on the leather couch's arm. Hana, lazily, was lying upside down, her head planted firmly on the floor; her feet on the wall above the couch. Sarah sat on a armchair across the room, her grey eyes scanning the room and the TV. We were all dressed on our pajamas, Hana in black and red, Sarah in pink and yellow, Deborah in blue and green, and I in purple and black.

"A ruffled skirt and leg warmers? Who wears that?!" Sarah exclaimed, shaking her head in mock disappointment. I laughed in my mind, thinking back to her earlier outfit of jeans and a toddler shirt. "Well," I thought. "The Winnie-the-Pooh shirt was better than the leg warmers and fancy skirts."

Deborah seemed to mimic my thoughts because we both caught each others eye and laughed quietly. Hana rolled her eyes. "You all are all so weird. You must get it from Mom." She said. We all giggled and then laughed. It wasn't a secret Hana and Diana got along about as well as oil and water. They used to fight all the time, over big messes to stupid, petty arguments. One disagreement lead to them not talking to each other anymore, though Diana keeps trying still to talk to her eldest daughter. Hana ignores her attempts now, and for a while, no one knew why and she kind of looked like the bad guy for not trying to rebuild the relationship with our mother, but after Hana explained, we all understood.

Things were said...things unforgivable, and for Diana to just believe Hana would automatically forgive her for saying them was preposterous. Hana didn't need words, she needed apologies that actually meant something...to Diana and to her.

I snapped out of my thoughts to see the lady of "What Not To Wear" step into the mirrors view dressed in a disaster of half a bikini, half a toga, and maybe part of a nun costume. I mentally rolled my eyes, rubbed my cheek against Deborah's side, and closed my eyes, before a tremendous force hit me in the stomach.

"OUCH!" I shouted, and I believe we all jumped two feet, at least, into the air at my own outburst. I glared at Hana, who had tried to sit up and had kicked me swiftly in the stomach during the process. We waited for Mason or our parents to come running in but no one emerged. I thought I saw Masons' curious figure peer down from the top of the staircase, but I didn't comment. After a second, he swiftly, like a training Shadowhunter would, disappeared back into the shadows above.

We all let out a collective breath of relief. It was still tense air, and we were all just calming down.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. We all looked at each other in confusion. Sarah ran to the kitchen and grabbed the digital clock that sat on the counter. It read _12:34_ in bold red numbers. This time caused even more confusion. "Is anyone expecting someone?" Deborah asked, and we all shook our heads.

The bell rang again, the sharp _ding-dong_ echoing throughout the house, almost seeming as if it echoed through our very minds. Hana ran off down the downstairs hallway, towards the front door. We all, after a moment of hesitation, followed. We caught Hana unlocking our father's briefcase, full of weapons. She entered in the combination, _32-14-09_, and the lock clicked. She threw open the case, grabbed a seraph blade, and put it, not yet shining, near her face to guard her. She took a step towards the door.

Hana turned back for a second. "Sarah, grab some daggers, and if it's anything dangerous, I will duck and you throw. Okay?" She whispered hurriedly, and Sarah grabbed seven silver daggers, each one a rune on the hilt so to be used against the damned and dead. Hana looked to all of us, and sighed. She motioned to us, Deborah and I grabbing two dark seraph blades for just in case. I got a angels name in my mind, getting ready to shout it out if my sisters needed help. _1...2...3...Now!_

Hana swung open the door, and was just about to yell an angels name to bring her seraph blade to life when a heavy form fell on top of her, the door being the support the body had been lying on. Sarah ran to help her sister, as Deborah and I watched, they lay the body on the floor, and Deborah sunk to the ground to take the pulse of the individual.

I watched, seeing with a start that the body was of a boy, around Hana's age, and he had runes inked on his arms. "So he's a Shadowhunter..." I thought, and then moved to shut the door quickly. Whatever had defeated this boy and left him on their doorstep was powerful. She could tell because he looked strong, strong enough to swing a seraph blade for hours. He looked tough, like he would fight until he won or died trying, and he looked scary. His face was stony and cold.

"I have a pulse, faint but it's there." Deborah had called to us, and I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

I didn't know why, but I knew we had to help this boy. I said as much to the girls, and they all agreed. We could hide him in the training room upstairs, which was glamoured on the inside and out. Diana doesn't even know we have it. This boy wouldn't be found there. Which I suppose is a good thing, it would surprise everyone to find someone randomly inside you home, but there's also the "tattoos" on his arms, and the weapons he carried, and, you know, the fact that he was covered in thick, dark, hot, red blood.


	2. The Training Room

All of us girls seemed to be at a silent stand still. No one spoke after a few minutes as we all stared from the door to the bloody boy who lay crumbled on the carpet below. Deborah, still, was crouched at the boy's arm, her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. The red blood dripped thickly to the floor where she held the limp body part. It was coating the floor in a dripping red pool. Brown and black dirt was crusted under the boy's short nails, and blood was dried on the cuticles. Scars, new and old, gathered on the rough knuckles, and the callused finger tips were cracked and dry. Deborah ran her fingers and hands, mindlessly, on the scars, shaking her head lightly, back and forth.

"He's been through quite a lot, that's for sure. How do you think he got all this blood on him?" Deborah asked, the flowing blood collecting on her fingers. Hana, her pale face showing no emotion, shook her head hastily. She seemed to have gotten over the shock of the boys' body falling on top of her when she had opened the door. The red blood had splashed all over her at the contact, and she had blood smeared under her eyes and on her cheeks, making her look like she had been crying a red pool. "Don't ask that! Ask how he ended up on our front porch. We haven't seen head nor tail of anyone of the Clave for months besides Dad. This boy's Nephilim." Hana commented. I shook my head. "Well how did he know to come here, and if not him, whoever did this? How could anyone know we are Nephilim?" I commented, picking up some of his bloodied weapons that had fallen stray on the floor from his body.

Three un-used seraph blades, a electrum whip, seven small daggers, and a lone iron vampire gun were attached to his weapons belt. Hana took them all from my hands, and walked to the kitchen to grab a Wal-Mart plastic bag. She came back and placed all the weapons inside the bag, and then took off his jacket with a sickening, creaky slowness. She had to literally peel the clothing off his tee shirt, as if she was peeling a orange, and red spider-webbed trails flew up as she separated the two pieces of clothing.

Sarah grimaced, moving to take the bloody clothing. She tried folding the heavy, black jacket, but it was badly stuck together. She frowned. "You could wash it before anyone wakes up." I suggested, but she frowned deeper. "You think Mom won't notice the blood trails on the floor to the washing machine?" Sarah said. I shrugged. I didn't think, with a bit of carpet cleaner, anyone would care all that much. There had been worse evidence for Mom in the house before.

Once, Sarah had come home at nine at night, with Hana, and they were covered from head to toe in thick demon ichor. Black fluid was stuck and grabbing onto their clothes, and they hadn't paid any mind to whether Diana would be up still or not. I'm sure all they were thinking of was iratzes for the blood burns and two long cool showers close in the future. Well, they had walked in, calling for Dad, and our mother had been sitting, quietly, in the living room, waiting for them. When we go demon hunting, we wait until she goes to bed or we stay out long enough she goes to bed while we are out.

"Where have you two bee- Oh my gosh! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU TWO?!" Diana had shouted at the top of her lungs. The shout had seemed to echo throughout the house. I think the worst news ran through each of our minds...that she had found out the truth. Christopher had run into the room, and stared at Hana and Sarah with wide eyes. I had, with Deborah, ran down from the glamoured training room at the shouting. Mason, who was practicing his runes, ran with us. We had all gaped at the two girls. I willed them to come up with some excuse, any excuse in my mind.

Hana was a step ahead of me. I give her credit now of her quick thinking. "We were on our way back from the library; we had returned our books. A small, silver car was broken down on the road about a mile away from here, and we knew we had to help. It was an old lady, and she let us try to fix her broken oil tank." Hana commented. I feel like, at the time, we all but Diana let out a silent breath of relief. Sarah, as she would, knew exactly where this excuse was going. "We pulled up the hood and the oil tank exploded all over us. Luckily, we didn't get severely hurt. We walked home after calling the police and a tow truck for the lady, and here we are." Sarah had finished.

I stepped in then, grabbing their wrists to pull them towards the stairs for the upstairs bathroom. I remember flinching when the demon blood burned my skin, but I didn't make a sound. If a few drops of the demonic blood burned this much, how much pain must my two sisters be in? "Mom, they need to get this...oil off their skin. Let them shower. After, we can all sit in the TV room and watch America's Got Talent, okay?"

I snapped out of my memories with a whispered shout. "Ela! Help me!" It was Deborah. She had grabbed the boys' shoulders and head. His blonde hair was crusted and stuck with the blood and sweat to his forehead. Hana grabbed his feet, Sarah his legs, and I was to support his back. "What are we to do with him?" I asked. Hana look up the stairs, and shrugged. "I say, until he wakes, we make him comfortable in the training room. We can get a cot and sheets from the closet. There's also a shower in there, food, and we don't have to worry for a while about Mom walking in on him in the guest bedroom."

We all silently agreed, starting, very very slowly, up the many stairs. We tried to carry him up the stairs, but found every couple stairs he began heavy with the weight of blood and limpness. We laid him down, halfway up. Deborah cradled his head in her hands so he wouldn't get hurt even more. I had to admit, he was pretty handsome, even with the dried dirt and gore covering his face and stuck to his skin.

His jawline was strong and stunning, his cheekbones high. His skin was a calming tan, and he shown with strength, even in this unconscious state. He looked angelic and strong.

We all took a few deep breaths, not trying to be too loud. The last thing we needed now was to wake Diana. After about five minutes, we lay him at the top of the stairs. Blood smeared the wood. Hana stood up straight, looking down into the dark of the stairs. They hadn't bothered to turn the light on, just in case anyone would wake. Still, even with the light off, you could clearly see the darker black spot on the floor below where the boy had been lying.

Sarah sighed, shoulders drooping. "Come Deborah," She said. "Help me clean up the floor of the blood. Also, start his clothes in the wash. I'll bring his belongings up here." Both girls started down the stairs, careful not to step in the slippery fluid that dotted the wood. Hana gave me a steady look. "Ela," She said, sounding tired. She was covered in the blood the boy was covered in, and she looked almost heroic, cradling the boys' head so he didn't have to strain, even in his...sleep. She looked almost as strong as him.

I didn't need her to talk to know what she meant. _"You have been very helpful and brave, but just be brave a little longer."_

I gathered up his feet, taking out my stele quickly to draw another strength rune, and lifted his feet, as Hana had his head and shoulders. Together, we carried him into the training room. We only set him down once when Hana had to draw a opening rune on a secret door in the back of the hallway near Sarah's room. We lay him on the floor while Hana brought light black covers, and I a cot, from the closet across the hall.

We set up the make-shift bed in silence. I put up the cot, and then went to the attached bathroom to grab a wet wash cloth. I stopped for a second, quickly trying to decide between taking two towels or just stay with the one. With a shrug to myself, I grabbed two, wetting both with cool water, and ran back to the young man on the floor. I really didn't want to completely give him a sponge-bath, for one it would be terribly un-proper, but also it would be rather odd. I sat beside his head and patted the wet towel on his forehead.

Blood came off on the cloth, and I continued. I scrubbed his cheekbones to get off the crusted, dried liquid. It took a while, but with finality, I finished cleaning the thick, hard liquid off his face. His skin was red with water and pressure, and I lightly pressed my fingertips to his skin to calm the blood rush.

And he cringed away.

I jerked back as he moved his head back and forth, as if having a nightmare. His eyes still didn't open, but at least he was alive. I smiled, and started cleaning off his neck of blood. His hands clawed at the floor, nails digging in deep, leaving more scratches on the floor and on his hands.

Suddenly, the training room doors opened, Hana walking back in with more sheets and comforters. She had a pillow under one arm, and it was clothed with a black and white lace pillow case. It looked like hers off her own bed. When she looked to me, she smiled, and set everything she was carrying on the cot. She walked over to me, settling down on the other side of the boy. She reached for the other towel, mine now bloodied terribly, and looked troubled.

"Should we clean off his chest too or wait for Dad to clean him up?" She asked. I shrugged. "Um...I don't think it would be improper, but it would be kind of awkward if he awoke." I said. I thought it over, I mean, this actual conversation was a strange conversation anyway.

I looked back down at the young man. He looked to be about 17, Hana's age. Taking off his weighted shirt, covered in blood, to help him feel better didn't seem like a bad thing. It was to help.

I shrugged again, and Hana tugged up the bottom of his shirt. I winced as the blood pulled against his skin and the shirt. I went to cleaning up the dripping blood. It wasn't as awkward as we had both thought. It took about twenty minutes, but we finally cleaned up his torso, and had succeeded in bloodying three more towels. Hana, smiling, grabbed his shoulders and motioned for me to grab his legs, and together we lifted him onto the freshly made cot. His pants still were soaked in blood and grime, but there was nothing to do about that. Christopher wouldn't be awake for another few hours, and waking him would probably wake Diana.

Hana pulled up the light sheets around him, and tucked him in. Strands of red hair had pulled out of her bun, and I noticed with a realization, she looked a lot like our mother, with the will and power of our father. Our parents, with a hint of rebellion, with a hint of strength, and a blast of curly red hair.

"Shall we go down to get Sarah and Deborah then? I am sure that they are almost done with thei-" I was cut off by a faint knock on the door, and Sarah walking inside with the Wal-Mart bag of weapons. Her eyes widened when she saw the boy, and smiled. "So you got him all cleaned up, wonderful!" She dropped the weapons bag on the floor at the foot of the cot, and placed some folded clothes on top of it. I looked at it, and made a move to look at the clothes, but Sarah shrugged.

"Just some old training clothes of Dad's. They were going to be for Mason when he came of age but that will be a very long time and I feel like he needs some clothes now more than Mason does in five to seven years." I nodded, and backed to the training room doors. Deborah was at the door, bloodied rags in her hands. She was just finished wiping up the blood off the floor.

"Done!" Deborah announced, leaning heavily against the doorway. I laughed and took the dirtied rags from her, tossing them into the clothes basket across the room, used to throw clothes in after they were well sweat through after training. Much of the clothes are usually covered in blood and ichor, as well as dirt and sweat.

Everyone besides Hana grabbed the dirty rags and clothes, and cleaned up the messes that had been made. Sarah placed a fresh wash cloth on top of the young mans forehead, and smoothed back his sweat-soaked hair from his face. "He seems to be content." Was all she said, as she picked up herself and headed for the bathroom. We all stared after her, questioning whether or not we should follow. "Go, I'll watch him." Hana whispered, climbing on top a stack of training mats. She sat and took out her sensor, pressing buttons to keep herself busy. "Once you all get out, I'll take a shower." She said further more, watching my expression of weariness.

With that, the rest of us gathered our rags and towels, dirty clothes and items, and headed into the attached bathroom. The bathroom has a maximum of three showers, three sinks, and three toilets. As you might think, it is a very large bathroom indeed. It would have to be, as a secret room, you can't just walk out into another bathroom covered in sweat and blood in front of our mother, nor walk out in towels that Diana had never once seen in her house before.

In the cabinets, above the three sinks, we all have kept extra clothes for us. For just in case moments, or just clothes for after we have trained. Of course, they are all training garments. Leather pants, weapons belts, long tee shirts, and boots. There was a few rare pairs of sweat pants, some over-sized tee shirts, and some robes. Socks were also in the bundle, as of bras and underwear. Sarah, Deborah, and I grabbed our shower items, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and razors, and climbed into a shower. We all clawed off our bloody shirts and garments and threw them into the used clothes basket across the bathroom.

I took a cool shower, glad to get the smell and feeling of blood and ichor off me. I may be a Shadowhunter and am familiar with the concept of blood and gore, I still enjoy being cleaned and contempt of all grime I could get off. I shampooed my hair well, the rose scented liquid filling the air, mixed with the lighter scents of the other girls shampoo. Sarah had a bottle that smelled like strawberries, while Deborah's smelled like honey and sunshine. They weren't in here, of course, but I could almost smell the hints of the smells of Hana's shampoo, cherries, and of Mason's lavender and mint.

I scrubbed my tangled brown curls more fiercely, bringing the sweet, soapy foam to the surface. I quickly rinsed my hair, getting all the rose bubbles from my locks. I grabbed the bottle of conditioner, also rose smelled, and spread it full throughout my hair, making the wet strands feel as soft as silk. I loved to let it sit in my hair for a minute, letting my hair absorb the goo. I reached for my face wash, and scrubbed the blood off my cheeks. When finished, I rinsed off all of my hair and body, and stepped out of the shower. I grabbed my bright blue towels, one for my hair and one for my body, and dried off.

I got quickly dressed, and thoroughly brushed out my tangled hair, and cleaned up my mess. No one else was out of the shower besides her, the smells of various liquids still rotating throughout the air. It was actually getting pretty hot and humid inside the bathroom, the mirrors fogging up white. I shrugged, and walked back out into the training room. Hana was still perched on top of the pile of blue and red training mats, and she was talking quite loudly.

I kind of stopped, stumbled I well believe. She was talking to the young man; he was awake!

I gasped as he turned half in the cot. He still had his shirt off, and numerous rags on his shoulders, forehead, and back. Even with the rags, it made him look even more strong. "Hey!" He called out, and tried to wave. He even tried for half a smile, though he started coughing almost instantly. Blood sputtered from his mouth into his hand, and he winced. Hana hopped down from the mats, reaching for his hand, and took a rag to clean him off. He nodded a thanks, and Hana motioned me over. "This is Ela, my younger sister." Hana said, motioning to me. "Ela, give him more wet rags if he's hot, and try some iratzes if it gets worse. Once we all get out, we are going to get Dad. I'll tell the others to hurry." She commented, and walked purposefully into the bathroom.

Left in the training room was an awkward silence. I noted as he stared at me, and I at him, that his eyes were a brilliant golden shine, like contained angel blood. His tawny hair almost matched, though the blood had reddened it a bit. I noted the blood. I didn't always pay attention like Deborah or Hana did in First Aid classes. I smiled shyly and sat at the end of his bed. He leaned back against the pillow, breathing steadily. "Are you in any pain?" I asked, hoping it would be something easy like a cut I could heal. I knew nothing about stitching, only iratzes. He took a moment to think over the question before he shrugged. "I don't know, I feel...numb." He said, shrugging. "I think it's just the demon blood that was on my skin. Other than that, I feel...okay."

"Would you like a iratze?" I asked, mindlessly half reaching into my back pocket for my favorite stele. He quickly shook his head, tawny eyes widened. "No no no, I've had plenty of those. I don't think I have any inch of skin left unmarked." He commented, though that wasn't entirely true. We both half-laughed quietly, and I put my stele back. The young man relaxed back into the pillows, eyes fluttering. "C-Could I ask what your name is?" I asked. He blanched, kind of paled, and slurred. "Um...I. I...J." He looked a bit dizzy. His arms and hands were fretful at his sides, tugging mindlessly at the soft comforter. He grew from patient to restless. I became a bit panicked. I didn't know what to do. He put his hand up as if to touch my arm, but I was too far, and then his eyes drooped. "My n...names J-Jace." He stuttered. The hand that was reaching towards me fell limply against the covers, and his head rolled to the side. His eyes closed, and he fell blissfully unconscious.


End file.
